Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
The home health nurse promised she’d be giving me a call at some point today after her visit with my Pops to give me an update on what our next stage was.
I didn’t like how close to the visit that call was coming in.
“I gotta take this,” I muttered as I stripped off my gloves and threw them into the nearest trash can as I walked out of the room, completely leaving all my trash behind.
I heard someone say ‘uh-oh’ but didn’t wait around to find out who.
I placed the phone to my ear and said, “Mrs. Vance.”
“Call me Vicky,” Mrs. Vance sighed. “I have some news.”
My stomach clenched.
She said, “Can you come home?”
God. Dammit.
CHAPTER 11
Each day brings endless agony.
-t-shirt
FELIX
“Assisted suicide.”
I looked at my grandfather. “Pops, that’s not allowed in Texas.”
Pops looked at me like I was a fuckin’ nut.
“You’re a doctor, Felix Alexander Kent. Do you honestly believe that you can’t help me?” Pops asked.
I looked at him like my world had just ended.
“He only has, at best, a week left,” Vicky said softly. “His organs are already starting to shut down. You can see that in the yellowing of his eyes, and his lack of appetite.”
That’d been the reason behind my call this morning.
His lack of enthusiasm when it came to eating.
I wanted him to pick up a damn chocolate bar or something, and not even that interested him.
“What about nutrients through an IV?” I asked.
My grandfather sighed.
“He’s refused any and all intervention,” she replied softly. “We started him on a low dose of morphine today since he can’t keep the pills down any longer.”
That was news to me.
I hadn’t realized that his pain medication wasn’t something he could keep down.
Had I known, I would’ve started him on some IV pain killers when he came home a few days ago when he’d first started to show signs of having issues.
“And since he hasn’t had a bowel movement in over a week, that’s just another sign that this is going to degrade faster rather than slower,” Vicky continued. “Now I can’t help y’all when it comes to assisted suicide. I’m sorry, Mr. Kent. But I can say that I can help make you comfortable in your final days.” She looked at me, and I followed her out of the room.
When we were in the hallway that led to the front door, she said, “He’s being very hush hush about this, but he’s in a lot of pain. So much so that he’s vomiting. Which is causing him to be dehydrated. Which in turn is only making other things worse.”
“He refused the IV?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
“He did,” she confirmed. “He allowed the pain shot, but that’s not going to help long, either.”
Sick.
I was physically going to be sick.
“What now?” I asked.
“Now, I get the hospital bed delivered,” she said. “I start coming in the morning and the afternoon. And if you have any issues whatsoever, you need to call me. It’s coming, Felix.”
I nodded, heart in my throat.
When I’d met Vicky, it was in the hospital as she was checking on one of her hospice patients.
Loving how she’d gone above and beyond for him in his last days, I’d researched her place of work, and her, when it was time for my own grandfather to be needing services that she provided.
I looked down at my feet. “Ask for the time off, Felix. You have less than a week.” She looked down the hallway where we knew Pops still sat exactly where he’d been left. “If it’s up to him, it’ll be even sooner.”
• • •
Two days later
“It’s time,” Pops said.
I looked at him from where he was lying propped up in the hospital bed in the middle of the living room.
“What?” I asked.
He turned his head, smiled, and said, “It’s time.”
My stomach knotted.
That was what I was afraid I’d heard.
“How do you know?” I asked, turning the television we’d both been watching on mute.
Vicky was right.
Pops had decided it was time, and his body was shutting down so fast that my head was spinning.
I’d seen hundreds of people die.
It was par for the course for a doctor.
But seeing my own flesh and blood, the man who had practically raised me, dying before my eyes was the toughest thing I’d ever experienced.
Even worse, he wasn’t letting me tell my uncle that things were bad.
Sure, my uncle knew that Pops had cancer.
But Pops hadn’t allowed me to tell Woody just how bad the cancer was.
It was going to come out of left field for Woody, and he was going to take it out on me.
But I’d do just about anything to keep Pops happy and comfortable in his final days, even brave the wrath of my uncle after the fact.
“I know because there’s this light,” he said as he pointed at the light above him.